She loved watching him, seeing his strength mixed with gentleness. The fluid way his muscled body moved, whether he was demonstrating for the older boys or tussling with the younger. When he laughed, her heart beat harder and emotion swelled inside her.
She stood off to the side now, talking with the grandparents of two of the boys. They raved about Cannon, not just about how he’d influenced their son in a positive way but how he’d helped with their business, successfully and peacefully getting drug peddlers moved away from their corner.
She had no real rights, but pride nearly took away her breath.
She was lost in thoughts of Cannon, of his overwhelming presence, when from behind her a thick male voice whispered, “Hello, Yvette.”
Shock sent tension down her spine, and she jerked around to see Heath standing there. He smiled, a sheepish, happy smile, not at all threatening—but damn him, she knew better.
He’d actually done it, actually followed her.
From California.
Reaching out, he touched her hair with near reverence, smoothing a long tendril behind her ear. “Cat got your tongue?”
The older couple moved away, giving them privacy, and when they did Heath enveloped her, hugging her despite her lack of welcome.
She had to get it together. Right now. “Heath.” Hands on his shoulders, she levered herself away.
With obvious reluctance, he let her put distance between them.
Yvette took a step back. Heath Nordan in no way resembled a stalker creep. At six feet tall, his athletic body visible beneath an expensive polo shirt and pleated slacks, his dark hair neatly trimmed and his smile bright with welcome, he fit right in with the other men at the rec center.
Big, handsome, muscular. Happy.
To see her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
YVETTE SHOOK HER head to clear it. She didn’t bother hiding her frustration. “What in the world are you doing here?”
As if it should have been obvious, he said, “I came to see you.”
Oh, Lord. She refused to look back for Cannon. She knew if she did, if he met her gaze, he’d get dragged into her personal drama.
Yvette put a hand on Heath’s arm, urging him toward the opposite side of the gym, and hopefully out of view of the fighters. “When did you get here?”
“Early this morning.”
So he could have been the one to damage Cannon’s tires. Petty destruction was certainly his speed.
Now some distance away, on the other side of the registration area, she again moved a few feet from him. “How’d you find me?”
He laughed, and the fact that his laugh sounded so normal, merely amused instead of insane, didn’t reassure her.
“It wasn’t hard.” Again, he reached out to touch her, but Yvette dodged him, earning a slight frown. Showing his disappointment in her, he dropped his hand. “You’re hanging out with a famous fighter, who hangs out here.” He rolled one shoulder. “Didn’t take a sleuth to figure out you’d be here.”
But how did he know she’d be here now? The idea of him maybe watching her, following her, was so repugnant that she wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“Say something,” he told her, teasing, expectant.
She tried to smooth out her frown but couldn’t, and that made him frown. “Heath—”
“Don’t tell me to go.”
Ah. There was that unbalanced voice she’d been waiting for. It reeked of demand and desperation, underlaid with simmering rage.
“That’s what you have to do and you know it. You have to go.”
He reached out again, and this time dodging him did her no good. He locked that big, hard hand on her upper arm and, oh, God, she felt it—his determination. His intent.
Too tight. Unbreakable.
He’d never before manhandled her. But then again, he’d had a series of nasty texts to build him up to this point.
With one small tug, he brought her closer so that she almost bumped into him. “I’ve missed you,” he insisted, as if she should be thrilled to hear it. “I’ve missed us.”
Straining away, Yvette stated, “There is no us.” She tried to wiggle free, but he only clamped down harder until she winced.
“Don’t say that.” His gaze went a little wild. “Don’t ever say that. You know you don’t mean it.”
If she weren’t in such a public place, she’d give in to the urge to fight. One yell and men would be there to help her, Cannon at the front.
She knew that, and knowing it helped calm her.
Right now, she mostly wanted to avoid a scene. She’d been at the forefront of too much ugly news already. “Listen to me, Heath...”
“There you are.” Wearing only boxing shorts and fingerless gloves, his blond hair spiky with sweat, Armie invaded their space.
Did the man live at the rec center?
He had his dark gaze zeroed in on Heath, and as he looked him over, his brows lifted.
“Armie,” she said with relief. “Hi.”
“Hi, Yvette,” he said in that teasing way she’d already grown accustomed to. Still with one brow quirked, he mused, “You got a type, don’t you, doll? Big, dark...” He shook his head. “For some reason, I expected him to be different. Softer, shorter. Dopier looking.”
So Cannon had told Armie about Heath?
“Who are you?” Heath demanded. “Another boyfriend?”
“Naw. I’m just the guy who’s going to break a few of your limbs if you don’t turn her loose real quick.”
She stood off to the side now, talking with the grandparents of two of the boys. They raved about Cannon, not just about how he’d influenced their son in a positive way but how he’d helped with their business, successfully and peacefully getting drug peddlers moved away from their corner.
She had no real rights, but pride nearly took away her breath.
She was lost in thoughts of Cannon, of his overwhelming presence, when from behind her a thick male voice whispered, “Hello, Yvette.”
Shock sent tension down her spine, and she jerked around to see Heath standing there. He smiled, a sheepish, happy smile, not at all threatening—but damn him, she knew better.
He’d actually done it, actually followed her.
From California.
Reaching out, he touched her hair with near reverence, smoothing a long tendril behind her ear. “Cat got your tongue?”
The older couple moved away, giving them privacy, and when they did Heath enveloped her, hugging her despite her lack of welcome.
She had to get it together. Right now. “Heath.” Hands on his shoulders, she levered herself away.
With obvious reluctance, he let her put distance between them.
Yvette took a step back. Heath Nordan in no way resembled a stalker creep. At six feet tall, his athletic body visible beneath an expensive polo shirt and pleated slacks, his dark hair neatly trimmed and his smile bright with welcome, he fit right in with the other men at the rec center.
Big, handsome, muscular. Happy.
To see her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
YVETTE SHOOK HER head to clear it. She didn’t bother hiding her frustration. “What in the world are you doing here?”
As if it should have been obvious, he said, “I came to see you.”
Oh, Lord. She refused to look back for Cannon. She knew if she did, if he met her gaze, he’d get dragged into her personal drama.
Yvette put a hand on Heath’s arm, urging him toward the opposite side of the gym, and hopefully out of view of the fighters. “When did you get here?”
“Early this morning.”
So he could have been the one to damage Cannon’s tires. Petty destruction was certainly his speed.
Now some distance away, on the other side of the registration area, she again moved a few feet from him. “How’d you find me?”
He laughed, and the fact that his laugh sounded so normal, merely amused instead of insane, didn’t reassure her.
“It wasn’t hard.” Again, he reached out to touch her, but Yvette dodged him, earning a slight frown. Showing his disappointment in her, he dropped his hand. “You’re hanging out with a famous fighter, who hangs out here.” He rolled one shoulder. “Didn’t take a sleuth to figure out you’d be here.”
But how did he know she’d be here now? The idea of him maybe watching her, following her, was so repugnant that she wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“Say something,” he told her, teasing, expectant.
She tried to smooth out her frown but couldn’t, and that made him frown. “Heath—”
“Don’t tell me to go.”
Ah. There was that unbalanced voice she’d been waiting for. It reeked of demand and desperation, underlaid with simmering rage.
“That’s what you have to do and you know it. You have to go.”
He reached out again, and this time dodging him did her no good. He locked that big, hard hand on her upper arm and, oh, God, she felt it—his determination. His intent.
Too tight. Unbreakable.
He’d never before manhandled her. But then again, he’d had a series of nasty texts to build him up to this point.
With one small tug, he brought her closer so that she almost bumped into him. “I’ve missed you,” he insisted, as if she should be thrilled to hear it. “I’ve missed us.”
Straining away, Yvette stated, “There is no us.” She tried to wiggle free, but he only clamped down harder until she winced.
“Don’t say that.” His gaze went a little wild. “Don’t ever say that. You know you don’t mean it.”
If she weren’t in such a public place, she’d give in to the urge to fight. One yell and men would be there to help her, Cannon at the front.
She knew that, and knowing it helped calm her.
Right now, she mostly wanted to avoid a scene. She’d been at the forefront of too much ugly news already. “Listen to me, Heath...”
“There you are.” Wearing only boxing shorts and fingerless gloves, his blond hair spiky with sweat, Armie invaded their space.
Did the man live at the rec center?
He had his dark gaze zeroed in on Heath, and as he looked him over, his brows lifted.
“Armie,” she said with relief. “Hi.”
“Hi, Yvette,” he said in that teasing way she’d already grown accustomed to. Still with one brow quirked, he mused, “You got a type, don’t you, doll? Big, dark...” He shook his head. “For some reason, I expected him to be different. Softer, shorter. Dopier looking.”
So Cannon had told Armie about Heath?
“Who are you?” Heath demanded. “Another boyfriend?”
“Naw. I’m just the guy who’s going to break a few of your limbs if you don’t turn her loose real quick.”
